


Aptitude

by chantefable



Category: Frontier Wolf - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Ancient History, Druids, Gen, Healing, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/pseuds/chantefable
Summary: Shula impresses Ferradach Dhu with her skill.





	Aptitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not_laurence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_laurence/gifts).



“Shula!”

She turned around quickly, braid whipping about and falling over her shoulder, and saw the chieftain himself, Ferradach Dhu, amble down the path at a leisurely pace.

Holding on to her wicker basket full of fresh herbs, Shula straightened and watched him through her lashes, squinting against the warm wind. He was tall and broad-shouldered, of the age when it was fine to be a chieftain and lead the spears; gold rings held a few of his thin braids handsomely, and the cloak and tunic were almost too fine to look at, a recent gift from a guest party of the White Shields. The intricate detail of stark, sharp designs on the chest and shoulders, where the light glinted off the metal in the weave, was mesmerizing to watch.

And so Shula watched.

She had never owned a beautiful, becoming garment: for all that her woolen clothes were reliable and brightly-coloured, Shula had never mastered the craft of weaving enough to produce complex and time-consuming patterns to adorn her sleeves and hems, and whenever she traded her skills and wares for something, other goods proved invariably more necessary in the moment.

Transfixed as she was by the designs – like ripples in the water, like clouds in the sky – she only belatedly registered Ferradach Dhu's words, and the fact that she had managed to nod her assent, too. Covering up her lapse of concentration, she smiled when she looked him in the eye and promptly turned on her heel, the distance of a few paces to the door of her hut swallowed by her quick footfalls.

She heard the chieftain move behind her, as dignified and confident as ever but perceptibly slower. Being next to him had stopped feeling like being out in the thunderstorm, a great invisible force rushing through Shula's being while nothing happened at all, but he was still Ferradach Dhu. It was not apprehension, it was respect that made Shula hurry. Respect, and hot, embarrassing pride that she was being called upon to assist, again and again.

Silent, motionless, and indisputably, palpably present, the bulwark of the Votadini stood at the entrance as Shula bustled about the hut, gathering the necessary tools and supplies. And then they went to the beautiful house of Ferradach Dhu, where Shula, a humble healer with only a few truly finely honed skills, was to assist Morvidd the druid in easing off the chieftain's pain.

It was unbelievable that this large, sturdy man could be ailing. For as long as Shula remembered him, Ferradach Dhu had been strong, and it had not been an affectation of his or a delusion of theirs. Lugh be witness, life in their inhospitable lands of bogs and wolves, in their ferocious times of blood and lightning, was not conducive to any kind of a sustained pretense. No ruse of Ferradach Dhu, no cunning plan of Morvidd's devising could have convinced the tribe of their elected leader's stalwart character had it not been true. The mists soak up the lies and the rains wash away half-truths; just like Shula would not have been able to pretend being demure and gentle longer than perhaps for a night, to lure a passing handsome harper away from the big bonfires for a spot of pleasure under the moonlight, so it would not have possible for Ferradach Dhu to pass off as a man of might and courage, strong with a word and with a spear, had it not been true.

And yet, this very strong man who led them well and defended their rights in front of the High King at Traprain Law, now bared a weakness – and the sight stirred Shula to the quick. Every time she was called upon, she focussed on doing her best, not getting in the way of Morvidd's hands or disrupting his chants; just holding on, and pressing, and making the right ointment. And thinking of the blessings of the Brigantia, putting them in her every touch.

***

The day had grown even cooler while they had been engaged, and as Shula stepped outside into the sheer grey, breathing in the smell of hay and horses, she was prompt to hide her wind-chapped palms in her sleeves. Ferradach Dhu did not follow, seated as he was on sleeping pallet covered by the striped blanket in the colours of the Red Horse, eyes half-closed and face flushed. He sipped the hot drink from the clay cup and listened to Morvidd's voice, lulling and soft – not at all loud the way it usually was when the druid told the tales of Taranis before the assembled villagers – and slipped into a pleasant haze of pure physical contentment. His chest felt a little wider, expanded from within, and his insides were all warmed from the fragrant liquid, mouth to gut. The girl was skilled beyond a doubt, prudent and quick-witted. The soothed ache in Ferradach Dhu's shoulder, a faint echo from the dark agony of earlier, served as a reminder of her competence. Sharp, and with an aptitude for healing and following orders, and perfectly capable of making her own judgement… Quiet. An undeniably good girl. If only he had listened earlier, when Morvidd had spoken of her several summers ago, and it had not been too late to train her, and send her to the Alderwoods, perhaps, to watch and learn, and take her to Traprain Law a few times. But it was now too late for that. Far too late, thought Ferradach Dhu, reaching for Morvidd's dry hand and clasping it before letting himself doze. 

But not too late for other things, he smiled, feeling Morvidd spread open his palm and place something in it – two rounded shapes, sharp ends, golden hoop earrings given as a gift by the Dalriads. As sleep claimed him, Ferradach Dhu knew whom he wished to trust into the girl's capable hands.

Outside, with no inkling of the impression she had made upon the chieftain, Shula hurried back to her hut.


End file.
